Falling
by Kate Beckett's Golden Snitch
Summary: The Doctor's always there for her, a safety net. But what happens when she's left falling, all on her own? Contains mentions of rape.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Okay, so this is a fairly dark Doctor Who fanfiction. It contains mentions of rape and other things that may be slightly disturbing to some. However, I do hope you enjoy the story. Read on. 

It's beginning to rain when he walks to her doorstep. He can feel droplets on his ears as he moves to push the doorbell, and it makes him smile slightly. He's always liked the smell of rain.

The door is opened with a creak, and he is greeted by a somewhat disheveled looking young woman. Her hair, normally down and bouncing about her shoulders, is pulled into a loose ponytail-bun thing. He isn't quite sure, he never understands women's hair. She looks pale, and dark shadows circle eyes, clear evidence of a deprivation of sleep. But her eyes, her large brown eyes, give her the look of uttermost shock, and it's quite honestly a bit frightening.

"Ah, Clara!" He exclaims, deciding that the best way of greeting would not be to point out her rather obvious decrease in appearance. "Are you ready to go?"

"Doctor?" Even her voice is tired, and it's starting to make him wonder about his companion. "Is that really you?"

"Of course it is!" His eyebrows are raised, and the grin that currently sits on his lips is beginning to fade slightly. "Why wouldn't it be me? Are you expecting someone else?"

"You haven't been here for over a year, Doctor." He blinks, and confusion clouds his face. That can't be right. He was just here, two days ago. He had taken her to see a planet that looked as though it was made purely of some sort of fairy dust, and she had been incredibly giggly the entire time.

"Clara, I was here two days ago." He moves closer to her, and he can see tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?" And the Doctor pulls her into his arms as she starts to cry. His hands run down her back in an attempt to comfort her, and it concerns him when he feels the sharp prominence of her shoulder blades sticking out. They were not like that two days ago.

"You weren't here." Clara's voice is muffled in the shoulder of his suit, but the pain in the words are as clear as a bell. "I needed you, and you didn't come back." He knows now that he's made a bad mistake, and he wants to punch himself for making her this upset.

"Oh, Clara, I'm so sorry." Pulling her closer, he moves one hand to cup her head softly. Her arms tightened around him, and the Doctor officially decides that something has gone very, incredibly badly wrong. He's never seen his Clara this vulnerable before. "What's going on?" She pulls away from him slightly, and walks back into the house, clutching his hand with a vice-like grip.

They move together to the living room, and he immediately notes the mess of objects strewn around the area. The last time he was here (which was apparently not two days ago), it had been completely clean, every surface practically sparkling. It's simply another sign of a change in Clara.

She sits gently on the couch, crossing her ankles and placing her hands in her lap. It's obvious that she wants him to sit beside her, but he remains on his feet, the concern he felt seconds before beginning to radiate in his face.

"Is everything alright?" The Doctor asks, and she bites her lip, looking down at her hands. She's avoiding the question, anyone could figure that out. Maybe if he talks to her a bit first, warms her up, then maybe he could find out how to help her. "Where's Artie and Angie?"

"Artie's on a school trip, and Angie's out at the cinema." Her response is small, and he finally sits next to her. He opens his mouth to speak, but before a word is uttered, there is a screech from upstairs and he immediately stands back up, sonic in hand. Clara grabs his arm, very suddenly, and he turns to face her, his eyes wide with concern.

"Clara, what's going on?"

"It's nothing bad, I promise." And pulling away, she turns and runs up the stairs, leaving the Doctor, utterly confused, in the middle of the room. The best thing to do, he decides, is to sprint up the stairs after his companion, and he does just that. The screech that he heard earlier has softened into whimpers, and as he gets closer to the sound, he suddenly realizes where he's heard that sound before. And all of a sudden, he knows what he's going to see before he turns around the doorway.

He's right.

Clara is standing in the middle of the yellow-painted room, murmuring while cradling a little one, a baby, in her arms. The infant's tear stained face is staring into hers, mesmerized by the larger face that is over it's own. And Clara coos and rocks the baby back and forth, a tender look in her large eyes.

"Can't be more then a month old." The Doctor says, treading lightly towards the two. She looks up at him, and he can see the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "Girl or boy?"

"Girl." She replies softly, letting the baby grab ahold of her thumb. "Ellie. And you're right, she's almost three weeks old."

"Precious." He puts a hand to little Ellie's cheek, smiling at the softness that only babies ever possessed. "She isn't Artie and Angie's sister, is she?" His tone is joking, but Clara tenses. She pulls away, moving to gaze out of the opposing window. He follows but doesn't touch her, doesn't move to place a finger on her shoulder. She's started to cry, he can tell from behind. "Clara?"

"No, she's not."

"Not what?"

"Ellie's not their sister." Clara's voice is thick, and she still looks out the window, gripping the little girl tightly. "She's mine, Doctor. She's my daughter." He blinks, and his forehead creases as he frowns. He's been gone for two days. Two days, and yet here she is, with a new little being. His Clara, with a baby. His Clara, as a mother. How is it possible? There are so many questions running through his brain, but the only one that slips out is-

"Who is the father?" She turns around again, tears running down her face, and he puts a hand to her cheek. "What happened? I want to help, Clara. And I am so, so, sorry I wasn't here."

"Her father's not going to ever be in the picture." Clara's voice turns cold through her tears, and the Doctor lets his hand fall from her face to Ellie's tiny chest. He can see the resemblance now, in the shape of her face and her quite shockingly large eyes. She looks like she's inherited all of Clara's lovely features. Lucky little girl. "Things happened, and I got pregnant, and it went from there." Clara lets out a quiet, hysterical giggle and then sniffs. She adjusts the baby to one arm and wipes her eye with her thumb.

"She's beautiful, Clara. Looks just like you." She can't help but break a soft smile, despite the tears still steadily making trails down her face. "But tell me. Details. Because I know you, and my Clara wouldn't get pregnant like this." The Doctor reaches for Ellie and very tenderly takes her into his arms. She really is tiny, smaller then the average three week old, and she nestles herself into his arms, her eyelids drooping considerably. Clara is watching, her vacant arms now curled around her stomach. He moves, almost lethargically, to the bassinet near the window, and places the little girl inside. "How about you go to sleep, Ellie?" His whisper is nearly silent, but he knows she can hear him. He does speak baby, after all. And she almost immediately shuts her eyes, her chest moving up and down with even breath. Satisfied, the Doctor turns around to face Clara, and instantly pulls her into his arms. She's finally stopped crying, and several pieces of hair are loose from her bun-thing.

"The Maitlands've been absolutely lovely, letting me stay." Her voice is muffled by his jacket-covered shoulder. "I didn't have anywhere else to go, really. Not anywhere that I'd want to take Ellie. My dad wouldn't have enough room for us in his flat, anyways."

"Clara." His voice has become very serious, and he pulls back, keeping both hands on her shoulders. "Please tell me how this happened. And the truth. You don't need to act strong anymore. Your daughter isn't listening." Clara inhales and recrosses her arms across her abdomen. She isn't looking at him anymore, she's got her chin on her chest and she's looking down at her shoes.

"Ellie's my world now, Doctor." She begins almost hesitantly, moving to sit in the old-looking rocking chair placed next to the window. "No matter how she came to be, I need you to understand that I love her so, so much."

"I understand that." The Doctor's voice grows soft, and he takes a deep breath before asking the question that he hopes to God isn't true. "But Clara...were you raped?" Her eyes move up to his, and just the look, the terrified, panicked look, told him the answer. "Oh, my Clara." He moves to kneel in front of the chair, taking her slightly shaking hands in his and holding them tightly. "Does anyone else know?"

"The Maitlands, my dad." Clara pauses and gulps back the lump forming in her throat. "The police do too."

"I'm so, so sorry." He repeats, running his thumbs over her knuckles and closing his eyes. "I should've been here. It's my fault, the TARDIS must've malfunctioned and sent me forward, further then I wanted."

"It's not your fault, Doctor." A small smile appears on her lips, despite the obvious tears clouding the corner of her eyes. "There's no way anyone could have seen this coming, or prevented it. And honestly," Her gaze moves back to the crib, where Ellie is sleeping peacefully. "I've got her now. You have no idea how it feels, when you hold your baby for the first time. I could never let anyone take her away."

"I know how you feel. Believe me, I really do." He closes his eyes and scrunches his eyebrows together, a look of deep thought appearing on his features. Or maybe it was pain. "You're tired, aren't you? Have you had any help with her?"

"No." Clara shakes her head, leaning back in the chair and letting her head rest on the top. "It's partially my fault for how Ellie was conceived, and it's my job to look after her."

"It's not your fault at all, Clara." The Doctor stands up and moves back to the bassinet. He puts a hand on the railing and looks at the little girl. The look of tenderness in his features is unmistakeable, he knows. She's going to be just like Clara someday, little Ellie. Spunky, wide-eyed, rather adorable. Definitely strong minded. "And I need you to believe that. If not for you or me, for Ellie." She doesn't say anything in return, just moves to stand next to him and gently pulls the baby into her arms. Ellie hardly stirs, almost as though she is so used to Clara's touch that she doesn't even need to see her to know.

"Can I show her the TARDIS?" Her request makes the Doctor frown slightly as he moves his hand to her shoulder, the bone of which juts into his palm. "Of course."

:-:-:-:-:-:

It's just the same as she remembers it. The cool, metal finishings on the rails. The strange, Gallifreyan words inscribed at the top of the console. Oh, the beautiful, flashing console. She's never really appreciated how amazing it really was. Or maybe that was just the lack of having the TARDIS in her life. Ellie squirms in her arms; she's awake now, her large brown eyes taking in her new surroundings. There's amazement in her gaze, Clara's sure of it. She walks further in, her footsteps echoing slightly through the machine. The Doctor follows, very quiet. He's worried about her, she can tell. And quite honestly, Clara can't decide how she feels about him at the moment. Part of her feels so, incredibly angry. He didn't come back for a year, and she really could have used his support during those times. But then there was the part of her that knew that he would never leave her that long without any kind of notice. And she's seen the TARDIS malfunction before, and she knows that he doesn't have control sometimes, no matter how much he pretends to.

"The TARDIS seems to like her." Clara turns around and smiles gently as she sees him looking around the top of the machine. How he senses these things, she can never guess. "I wouldn't be surprised if she's added on a spare room with a cot and nappy table."

"You're kidding." She adjusts Ellie so that she can see over her mother's shoulder, and begins to softly, soothingly rubbing the infant's back with her thumb. The action has become almost mechanical, ever since Clara had figured out that it soothed and comforted her a great deal. "She doesn't like me, I thought we'd established that a long time ago."

"Yes, well, she doesn't have to like you to like your daughter." The Doctor says, and he looks back at Clara, an almost grim expression clouding his face. "She thinks you've come to stay." As soon as he utters those words, she feels a desperate longing, plunging into her veins like ice water. She wants to stay, needs to stay, more then anything else in the world. It had never occurred to her exactly how much she had missed this. But-

"I can't." She says shortly, looking down at her shoes. "I've got Ellie now. I can't just drop everything and leave. She needs me."

"Of course." He leans against the metal railings. "I wasn't expecting-"

"But we'd be safe in here?" Clara bites her lip as she sees him calculating. He's properly worried now, if he wasn't before. Because she's comparing all the dangers of everywhere in the universe to staying in a rather charming neighborhood. But she'd have the Doctor here, and ever since the day when everything changed, she's been scared to leave the house for anything. Honestly, she'd never feel completely safe there again. The Doctor, seeming to come to a conclusion, walks to Clara and puts both of his hands onto her cheeks.

"If you feel safer in here, with me," He pauses, exhales before continuing. "Then I'll protect you and Ellie with my life. But listen, Clara. That doesn't mean that it won't be dangerous. You've been here before, you know what this life is. But if you honestly feel too afraid to continue your daily life in this place, then come live it here. With me. And I swear, the bastard who did those things to you will never touch you again."

There's a moment of complete silence, and then she succumbs to his comforting embrace once again, baby carefully nestled between their two shoulders. He has one hand in the small of her back, and the other on her neck, and then _oh- _

**He had been laughing silently, hardening his grip on the back of her neck. He had been laughing at her sobs, her desperate pleas to just let her go. **

She pulls away from the Doctor, everything fuzzy, blurry with new tears. She subconsciously presses Ellie to his chest, making him hold her tightly as he begins to repeat her name-

** He pressed his lips to her neck, hot tongue lingering before moving on to a new patch of skin. Her petite frame was lost in the shadow of his body, pushing her against the jagged roughness of the concrete. Help, she screamed, can't somebody hear me? **

She feels her knees collapse, and she's on the ground, barely holding herself up as her body quakes with terrified sobs. She's gone from calm to hysterical in a millisecond, and she can't do anything to stop it-

**The pain, the white hot pain that coursed through her made her nauseous. She moaned, her voice infinitely hoarse from the shrieking before. He laughed harder, his hand clutching her thigh so hard that she could feel the nail-shaped imprints being etched into her skin. She croaks out a few feeble words before giving in to the incoming darkness that was rapidly clouding her vision.**

** Please. Please stop. **

"Clara!" She's aware of his voice, of him kneeling next to her. She can feel one hand shaking her shoulder, and somehow she knows that her daughter's held tightly in the other. Her daughter, the one she's got to be strong for. But the sobs keep coming, and every time she opens her mouth, only gasps escape. At least the gasps could escape.

AN: Should I continue with this? It's very different from my normal writing, it was quite interesting to construct. Please leave reviews, I honestly have no idea how this is and I want your opinions. 

xoxo,

J


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I'm sorry it's been so long! I really didn't know where to go with it and honestly, I'm still not quite sure. I like the way this started, not as much at the end :/. But I hope you guys like it!

_She's shaking as she opens the door, her legs barely able to hold her up. It's quiet in the Maitland house, so she limps silently into the sitting room and collapses onto the couch, the tremors beginning to take over her entire body as she presses her hands to her face. As hard, as desperately as she tries, Clara can't get the feeling of violation and utter pain away from her body. She can still feel his hands, his lips, his body, everywhere. Her chest is in exceptional pain, but she doesn't want to lift up her blouse to check the damage. Doesn't want to see what he did to her._

_"Clara?" _

_She looks up to see Angie standing in the doorway, her phone dangling from her fingertips. Her face shows slight worry, but it's nothing that Clara can't quickly fix by covering everything up._

_"Hey, Angie." She knows her smile looks forced, but it's the best she can do at the moment. "Is your family around right now?"_

_"Just me." Angie's eyes narrow, her lips pursing into a tight line. "Are you okay? You're really pale." _

_"I'm fine." Clara says, pushing herself off of the couch and wincing as slightly as she can manage. It hurts, her stomach contracting as white hot pain radiates through. But she holds her ground, folding her arms across her chest but making sure not to make contact. "I'm just feeling a bit ill, I must've had something odd in my lunch." And then she notices where Angie's begun to stare; the upper right side of her neck, where she distinctly remembers him sucking on viciously. _

_Oh. Oh no. _

_Clara quickly presses her palm to the spot, but Angie's already raised an eyebrow. _

_"Is that a hickey?" She walks closer and Clara tries to move behind the sofa but oh god, it hurts, and she shuts her eyes tightly._

_"No, of course not!" It comes out as more of a moan then she meant it to be. _

_"Yes, it is!" Angie exclaims, sounding almost excited as she grabs Clara's arm. She pulls away, holding back a whimper. There's definitely bruising there, she can feel it. "So, who gave it to you? Your boyfriend?" _

_"Angie, please-" _

_"So that's where you've been then? Off snogging the Doctor? You could be a little more subtle, you-"_

_"Stop, Angie." Everything's hurting, and it's just way too much. She's determined not to dissolve into a sobbing mess in front of Angie, but she can't stop the hot tears making their way down her face. "Please. It wasn't him, I don't even know who it was." _

_"What?" Angie's face turns from joking to horrified in a second, and she's moving, standing right in front of Clara. "No, you couldn't have been ra-"_

_"Don't say it!" She exclaims, and she knows that now she sounds hysterical. But her chest hurts, and her head hurts, and everything is just hurting so much that she can't be bothered with putting on an act anymore. "And don't go completely horrified on me, it's the last thing I need right now." _

_"I need to call Dad." Angie's voice is shaky, but she's holding her composure a hell of a lot better then Clara is. "He can help, he can take you to a hospital-"_

_She stops suddenly, eyes widening in obvious shock. "You're bleeding." _

_"What?" Clara's breath hitches, and her eyes move down towards her chest, where the pain, now fully acknowledged, seems to blossom fully across her stomach. There's a rather deep red stain growing on her blouse, and she can't help but clasp her hand over her mouth. Everything's beginning to crumble in, and she can feel it, so heavy on her shoulders. _

_"I'm calling emergency." Angie's voice tugs her back into reality, and she grasps the determination in her tone like a lifeline. "Just...sit still, Clara." and she pulls out her mobile. Clara listens, staying as rigidly as she can. She's gasping as gently as she can, her chest burning every time it heaves with breath. It hurts badly, real, proper pain, but she doesn't want to look down again. She's never liked blood._

_Angie's murmuring things into the phone now, not taking her eyes off of Clara. She looks so scared, and despite everything, Clara just wants to hold her and comfort her and tell her everything will be fine._

_The thing is, she really doesn't know if that's the truth. _

_:-:-:-:-:_

_It turns out the blood had been coming from a deep knife wound below her collarbone, requiring no less then seventeen stitches. They make her lie down on the bed after the procedure, only raising her torso slightly so she can see around her. They tell her that apart from the cut, there seems to be no major internal or external damage. A couple ribs are bruised, which is more painful then serious, and somehow her thumb's been dislocated, which she honestly hadn't felt at all. There are small cuts and bruises all over her body but nothing that can't be fixed in time._

_Then they bring in the police. They sit in chairs next to her bed, holding clipboards and pens. She tells them everything she can remember, every traumatizing moment. They nod and look sympathetic, and by this point she's seen so many faces like this that she wants to throw up. _

_Clara hasn't cried since she's arrived at the hospital. She hasn't had a breakdown, didn't even shed one tear when they put in the stitches. She's holding herself quite well. _

_That is, until her father walks through the door to her room._

_His eyes show so much worry, so much heartbreak, that as soon as he took a step towards her, she bursts into tears._

_"Oh, Clara." He's immediately beside her, taking her into his arms and pulling her into his chest as gently as possible. She's bawling into his shoulder, ignoring the pain from her stitches and her ribs and her thumb. None of that pain compares to the internal, emotional pain that's overwhelming her. "My little girl." Her father looks so devastated as he holds her close that she can't help the overwhelming wave of guilt that seems to crash into her mind._

_"I'm s-sorry." Clara stutters, her voice thick from all the tears. "I'm so sorry, Daddy." She's sobbing again, and he pulls her even closer, gently stroking her hair with his palm._

_"Don't even begin to blame yourself." He murmurs, and she could hear the strain in his tone. "This was not in any way your fault, Clara. God," He leans away from her and inhales shakily, wiping his eyes. "I can't believe this happened." Clara leans back against the pillows, wincing as pain flares in so many different parts of her body. She's tired, tears still making trails down her cheeks. It's been such a long day, and exhaustion seems to be setting in. She doesn't even know what time it is, but it feels like it could be late into the night. The spot where she was cut is throbbing, and Clara lets out a gentle groan, attracting her father's attention._

_"Do you need anything?" He asks, taking her hand. He's letting go of his own feelings, his own hurt, to make sure his daughter is alright. And Clara normally hates it. She hates people being concerned, comforting her. She's never liked it. But this is her father, and she's just so tired and upset that all she wants is for her dad to hold her. So she leans forward and he wraps his arms around her and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. He smells familiar, like spice aftershave and mint toothpaste and something lovely and warm that she can't quite place. _

_She really just needs to be held. Just this once. _

:-:-:-:-:

She didn't even know that she had fallen asleep.

When she blinks and opens her eyes, it's obvious she's in the TARDIS. It's even her old bedroom, the one she hasn't entered in over a year. It's overwhelmingly familiar, and she smiles gently, shifting to one side.

There's something new on the wall. A bright white door that stands out against the deep purple that she personally chose. Slightly intrigued, Clara pushes herself up with one hand and immediately hisses at the sudden, sharp pain. She looks and sees the tiniest, most precise stitches curving into her palm. Clara frowns slightly. She doesn't quite remember cutting her hand.

The door in question creaks open, and the Doctor enters, his eyebrows raised in concern. Ellie's lying vertically against his chest, and his large hand supports her head very carefully.

"I'm sorry about the stitches." He begins, moving into the room and sitting on the bed next to her. She can see now that Ellie's sound asleep, her tiny nostrils flaring as she exhales. "I didn't know how long you would be out, and I didn't want to leave you bleeding." His eyes are almost pressing into hers now, and he looks as though he's trying to figure something out and can't quite decide where to start.

"It's alright." Clara responds, moving her stitches-free hand to rest against her daughter's miniature one. "You're not half bad at stitches either, you know that? I have to say, I'm rather impressed."

"You don't think I took on the title Doctor without any qualifications, do you?" He's smirking, and she can't help but smile. He's really such a sweet man, the Doctor. She didn't realize how much she'd missed him until he came back.

Then his face grows serious, and he takes her hand tenderly, adjusting the baby to one arm. "How are you feeling?"

"Alright." Clara moves her gaze down to their hands, fingers entwined gently. "I don't know what came over me, Doctor. It was like I didn't have any control anymore."

"Something was a trigger." His eyes have begun to glaze over, a tendency that happened mostly when he was in deep thought. Or when he was worried. In this case, it certainly could be both. "Something that you did or saw or felt or smelt or anything like that. It caused a reaction that you were not in control of." She nods, biting her lip. It was her fault. Her body's fault for not being able to control her own emotions.

She wants to cry.

Almost as soon as the thought registers in her mind, Ellie begins squirming and fussing in the Doctor's arms. Her eyes scrunch together, and her face begins to grow red. She opens her her mouth widely, and Clara immediately recognizes it as the prelude to a rather loud sob.

"Oh, my baby." She quickly plucks the infant from the Doctor's arms and pulls her to her chest, softly bouncing her torso up and down as she knows the little girl enjoys. "It's okay, Ellie. Mum's right here." Ellie's whimpers fade to tiny murmurs, and then to nothing at all. Clara smiles and presses a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "That's a good girl." The baby yawns, big eyes looking into Clara's with the slight curiosity that automatically appears in wide eyes.

She loves Ellie, loves her with a fierceness that seems impossible. Every time she holds her and feels her tiny weight, she has to take a deep breath and just let the fact that she has a daughter, a perfect little daughter, sink in. Ellie's so much like her that it makes her ridiculously happy, and, to be completely honest, has given her a whole new way to think about the phrase 'what goes around comes around'. The little girl can be rather fussy, and usually will only completely settle when in Clara's arms. Usually being the operative word, as the man standing in front of her seems to be the one exception.

"She's been sleeping for quite a while now." The Doctor leans against the doorframe, his hands somewhat awkwardly by his sides now that he's not holding Ellie. It's really reassuring that he's still an awkward man, that that hasn't changed since before.

"How long have I been sleeping?"

"A few hours now. You needed it, so don't apologize." She smiles slightly at that, her knees relaxing as she slips into as what she refers to as 'the baby bounce'. Ellie, in turn, seems to relax as she feels her mother's action. The Doctor smiles too, though there's an undercurrent of concern that has been present since he entered the room. "I can watch her, for a bit longer. She likes me."

"I'm okay now, Doctor." But he reaches for the baby, and takes her into his arms before she can object. Ellie hardly even notices the switch, and she starts cooing, her tiny lips puckered. Clara folds her arms and leans back against the pillows. "Come on. You don't need to look after her anymore, she's my daughter."

"But I care for her, Clara." The Doctor looks up at her, with his big, sad eyes that can pull her in anytime. "I care for you, and anything or anyone you believe is important is important to me." And then, hesitantly, he presses a soft kiss to her temple. Then he pulls away, back, as though he's burned her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"Doctor, it's fine." Clara leans forward and places her head against his shoulder. "I'm not a china doll."

"You're not rock hard either." He counters. "You're just a young woman, Clara. A young woman who has faced too many awful things for anyone."

She doesn't answer, reaching across his torso to lay her hand on the little girl. He's being sympathetic, and it makes her bite her lip.

"I just want to help you." His voice makes Clara look up at him, and he's not even looking back at her. He's looking across the room, eyes glazed over once again with some type of mysterious concentration. "I know I wasn't there, and I want to help you now." Her head only nods in response, and she bites her lip harder as she feels the unfortunately familiar sense of tears approaching. He's trying so hard to be helpful, and it breaks her heart. He really, really doesn't know everything about what happened.

"I'm sorry, Doctor." Clara stands up rather suddenly and hastily wipes her eyes. "This isn't your problem, and it's not fair to subject you to all of this." She reaches for her daughter. The Doctor doesn't object, but his face is expressing so much confusion that she just wants to break down.

"Clara, what's-"

"I can't do this. I'm sorry."

She just manages to leave the room before the tears begin to fall again.

AN: I hope you all enjoyed, please please PLEASE leave reviews, they really motivate me to continue.

xoxo,

J


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